


Last Dance

by Traviosita9124



Series: Working Out the Kinks [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Jealousy, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15021761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: Even the most loving, dedicated couples have their bouts with jealousy.





	Last Dance

Jemma tried her best to focus on dancing. Her shoes were making it difficult, the stiletto heels forcing her to take smaller steps than she would have usually. She was frustrated by not being able to move with her usual grace, but she supposed they weren’t a total loss even though they made her arches ache. Fitz had rather liked the way they’d made her arse look after all, if the way he’d bent her over the foyer table and hiked up her dress up to her waist to have her before their car had arrived was anything to go by.

She was still a little sore from their activities, the ache between her legs and the whisper of her dress over her knickerless-bum both serving as a pleasant reminder of her lover and just how he could take command of her body. The thought of him made Jemma seek him out, eventually spotting him over Mace’s shoulder as he stood glowering near the bar. Jemma could see his hands were shoved deeply into his pockets as he watched her dance and that Fitz was busy fiddling with something out of sight of the other attendees. Realizing he had Jemma’s attention, he slowly drew a hand out and offered her a quick glimpse of delicate black lace before shoving them back into his pocket. A hot flush of arousal ran through her and when she locked eyes with Fitz once more, she saw that he was smirking at her.

Jemma desperately wished she were dancing with Fitz instead of Mace; however, as the new head of S.H.I.E.L.D. this was his show and as the new head of his Science Division, Jemma couldn’t refuse a dance with him without creating a bit of a stir. She grit her teeth and tolerated it, but the way his fingers were skimming low on her backless dress and his refusal to acknowledge her personal space made her uncomfortable. Mace knew perfectly well she and Fitz were an item but he still insisted on pulling her flush against him and giving her what Jemma could only assume he thought was a charming look.

She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he simply didn’t know how to turn off his charm offensive during a public event. Mace was a nice-looking man, she supposed, but was rather bland. In short, exactly what the government had wanted to present as the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.: typically handsome American who wouldn’t offend anyone. There was no chance of seeing any more emotion from him than one would from a piece of wood something that, in Jemma’s opinion, made him as boring and bland as said wood.

Jemma looked for Fitz every chance she could and each time they made eye contact felt like a lifeline. She memorized him in his tux, looking impossibly handsome in the well-tailored garment and knowing he was playing with her panties in his pocket made her body thrum with want. Jemma could feel her cheeks blaze and was torn between wanting to maintain her public persona and giving into the feelings only Fitz could stir in her.

She looked away to hide her flushed cheeks from Mace and the other gala attendees as she recalled the way Fitz had claimed her hard and fast, making it clear in no uncertain terms who she belonged to behind closed doors. He’d murmured about what a good girl she was, making her shiver in delight as his cock stroked in and out of her, making her see stars, before they both came. And when she’d expected him to clean her up, Fitz had just slipped the scrap of lace down her legs and told her that he wanted to know she’d be ready for him whenever he wanted that night.

Thanks to that memory, she was more than ready for a repeat performance.

Jemma silently counted down the remaining time in the song, anticipating the moment she could politely extract herself from Mace’s grasp and return to Fitz at the bar. She could feel his eyes on her back, would swear she could feel the heat of it on her skin as their boss directed her across the dance floor. She knew he was likely glowering over the fact that Mace was pushing boundaries with her and while the professional in Jemma rolled her eyes at his possessive attitude, the submissive in her was keen on seeing just what her Dom had in store to re-establish himself. Fitz didn’t need to do that, but Jemma wasn’t going to discourage it either. She liked the results far too much to actively dissuade him from that sort of behavior.

As soon as the song ended she bid farewell to Mace and made a beeline to where Fitz was waiting. His eyes tracked her the entire way across the room and Jemma felt her arousal jump another notch. Even from a distance she knew the look in his eye. He was going to make sure she remembered who she belonged to and she found her breathing had gone shallow, her pulse racing, in anticipation. She paused at the bar next to him, expecting that he’d want to buy her a drink only to be surprised by him leading her back into the crowd for the next dance.

This time when her dance partner’s fingers brushed against the bare small of her back and his chest pressed flush against hers, Jemma relished it. She could feel the heat radiating off Fitz’ body even through the thick fabric of his tuxedo and automatically began to fantasize about having his bare skin on hers. Jemma knew she should be more in control than that. She was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s youngest Division Heads, nothing to scoff at, and was more than capable of maintaining her train of thought around her boyfriend. The only problem was that he was devastatingly, distractingly handsome in his tuxedo and all Jemma could think of was getting it off of him.

Even her naughtier thoughts couldn’t distract her from the way Fitz stiffened against her when Mace passed by again, his eyes lingering perhaps a bit too long on Jemma.

“Fitz?”

She trusted him to understand the question she was asking despite only saying his name. If anyone knew her well enough to do that, it was Fitz.

“Nothin’,” he answered, earning himself an arched eyebrow. “He just seemed rather liberal when he was dancin’ with y’. That’s all.”

Fitz was trying his best to have a stiff upper lip but Jemma saw right through that. Passing through a far, dark corner of the dance floor, she brought her hand up to cup his cheek and directed him to meet her eyes. She had hoped that simply telling him how much she loved him would be enough to assuage his fears but the look in his eyes told Jemma he needed more than that. She decided to try a different tack.

“Do you know the problem with men like Jeffrey Mace?”

Fitz gave her a look, clearly uncertain of where she was going with this line of questioning and nervous to hear what she had to say. Still, he steeled himself to ask, “What’s the problem with men like Mace?”

“They think they can force everything to be just how they want,” Jemma answered, leaning in to whisper directly in his ear. “Because of their physical stature they assume brute force is what matters most. They don’t bother with planning or considering what their partner likes. They’ll never understand subtlety, or that true seduction begins in mind.” She brushed a kiss against the corner of Fitz’ jaw, savoring his warmth and the feeling of his stubble beneath her lips. “That to really take someone apart you have to know and respect them first.”

Fitz relaxed against her in increments as she spoke and a smirk began to stretch his mouth. “Y’ mean like knowin’ exactly what makes someone tick? For instance,” he pulled her closer and Jemma swore she could feel the physical change in him as his more dominant personality came to the forefront, “knowin’ that it would thrill y’ if I took y’ into the next room and fucked y’ senseless. Nothin’ but a thin partition between us and our colleagues. Do y’ think y’ could keep quiet if I did that, pet?”

Jemma noticed that Fitz had purposefully steered them to the back of the room and felt her heart beating wildly against her ribs. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to have him lead her into some dark corner and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight, to wipe the memory of Jeffrey Mace’s hands off her skin as expediently as possible.

“I’d do anything you asked of me,” she murmured in response, pressing her thighs together as a fresh wave of arousal rolled through her.

“That’s my good girl. C’mere.”

Fitz took her hand and quietly led her out of the hall and into the smaller, unused room next door. Jemma briefly wondered what he’d done to get them into here - she was fairly certain this room had been locked earlier - but her growing need kept her from examining the situation too closely. They were forced to leave the door open to allow any light in, a fact that thrilled and terrified Jemma in equal measure.

“This way, pet,” Fitz said as he shifted her to stand in front of him, guiding her toward the darkest corner in the back of the room. It was also the corner nearest to the partition shared with the S.H.I.E.L.D. “It’s dark enough that no one’ll see us back here, and as long as you’re quiet,” he gave her a wicked smirk, “they won’t need t’ investigate further.”

Hands on her waist, Fitz lifted Jemma to sit on an unused table. With her eyes adjusted to the little bit of light that filtered back to where they were, Jemma could just make out Fitz’ expression. His face was schooled into the careful mask he wore whenever he was acting as her Dom, but she could still see the adoration in his eyes. As much as the way he worked her body thrilled her, Fitz’ tenderness was what Jemma loved the most.

“I supposed I can’t blame Mace,” Fitz mused as his fingers gently toyed with the shoulder straps of her dress. “Y’ look gorgeous in this dress. This shade o’ blue suits y’, pet.”

“I picked it to match your eyes.” Jemma gasped as his lips found her neck, the heat of his mouth causing her to shiver. Her eyes slipped shut and her head tipped back to give Fitz as much access as he wanted.

“Is that so?” His approval of her reasoning was easy to hear in his tone. “Clever girl, knowin’ how t’ please me.” Jemma sighed as his lips journeyed over her collarbones and down between her breasts. She’d never thought her of her breasts as being particularly impressive, but the way Fitz adored them had quickly changed her mind. “It’s a shame I can’t strip y’ here. As nice as y’ look in this, y’ look better as God intended.”

Fitz tugged the hem of her dress up for the second time that evening and Jemma pressed her hands back onto the table to give her enough leverage to lift her hips and help him. The bare wood of the table was cool against her skin, but any chill she might have felt was quickly chased away by the heat of Fitz’ hands on her thighs. Her breath hitched as she watched Fitz lick his lips and kneel before her, his hands curled beneath her knees to draw them apart and reveal her sex to him.

“Chris’, Jemma, you’re already soaked.” He reached out to drag his fingers through her folds, his thumb pressing a light circle over her clit. “What has y’ in such a state, pet?”

Fitz’ tone was teasing but Jemma knew him well enough to catch the hint of vulnerability beneath it. She arched her back subtly, trying to get him to put his mouth on her already.

“You showed me my knickers,” she panted, “and I thought about earlier. How you took me from behind and how good it felt.”

“Well, if I put y’ in this state, it’s only fair if I fix it, isn’t it?”

Jemma nodded, lower lip caught between her teeth as she watched him with wide eyes. With as tightly wound as she felt, she didn’t trust herself not to babble if she actually answered him.

“I can do that,” he told her as he placed kisses on her inner thighs that made her twitch in anticipation of his mouth. “But remember, Jemma, y’ need t’ be quiet. Unless y’  _ want  _ Mace and the rest t’ come in here and see how the Science Division Head likes t’ spend her off hours. In that case, be as loud as y’ like.”

Jemma had been ready to offer up a sharp rebuttal but was cut off by Fitz’s tongue swiping through her folds. She lost her capacity for rational thought beyond pressing her hand to her mouth to keep quiet, drawn into the sensation of his mouth on her most intimate area. There was no denying how good Fitz was at this. He started with soft strokes, coaxing her body into relaxing into the wet heat of his mouth.

When he had her hips shifting restlessly against his mouth, seeking more as she muffled her soft, pleading whimpers, Fitz narrowed his focus. Using his forearm, he pinned her hips to the table as began working his tongue more firmly against her with shorter, faster strokes focused on her clit. Jemma was nearly out of her mind with pleasure, her release drawing nearer when he thrust two fingers inside of her. That was the beginning of the end for Jemma and she quaked apart as Fitz insistently stroked his fingers over her g-spot. Somehow she managed to keep herself quiet, although she no longer cared if anyone found them. Let the world see how Fitz loved her and took her apart, reputation be damned.

As soon as she’d finished, Fitz stood and pressed close to her. Jemma could feel the hard outline of his cock through his trousers and she had to fight to keep herself still, knowing he’d be disappointed in her if she acted without a command from him.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled. “Now take out my cock and fuck me.”

Her fingers flew over his fly, taking him out as quickly as she could without hurting him and inching closer to the edge of the table. He felt so good in her hand that she was tempted to stroke her hand over him but held. That wasn’t what Fitz had asked her to do.

He thrust into her without preamble, drawing a low moan from Jemma that she was forced to stifle against his shoulder. Fitz felt so good, so right inside of her, the hot, thick slide of him setting her nerves alight. She was still sensitive from her recent orgasm and between that and how well Fitz knew her body, it didn’t take much to have her quickly approaching the edge yet again.

“Mine,” Fitz whispered in her ear as he nipped at the lobe. “You’re  _ mine _ , Jemma. Y’ understand that? Answer me, pet.”

“Yes!” Her soft exclamation was thankfully muffled by the way she’d pressed her face into Fitz’ neck, but no less ardant for it. “I’m  _ yours _ , Fitz, only yours, all yours,  _ oh- _ !”

Jemma broke apart again, her thighs quivering around Fitz’ hips and sex gripping his cock as sensation washed through her in wave after wave. He continued thrusting in and out of her, drawing out Jemma’s pleasure until he finally came, too, his movements growing jerky as he spilled inside of her.

They held there for several long minutes in the afterglow, exchanging soft, breathless kisses as they came down from the high of being together. It wasn’t until someone passed in front of their open door, casting a long shadow on the wall behind them that either of them became aware of the world once more.

Fitz cupped her cheek and gave Jemma one last, tender kiss before he stepped away from her to tuck his softening cock back into his boxers and zipped up his fly. She could feel the evidence of their adventure coating the insides of her thighs, and as much as the sensation sent an illicit thrill through her, Jemma wasn’t keen on letting everyone know what they’d been doing thanks to a wet spot on the seat of her dress.

“Fitz-?” she started, only to be cut off by him stepping back between her knees. He had his handkerchief out, folded into a neat rectangle, and swiped it delicately along her folds. The intimacy of his action knocked the breath from Jemma’s lungs and left her feeling even warmer and more affectionate than before. He did such a good job of taking care of her, anticipating her every need, that all she wanted to do was give him all that and more in return.

He folded his handkerchief and tucked it back into his pocket along with her knickers and reached out to help her off the table. It took Jemma a moment to steady herself on her heels, pressing her hands into Fitz’ chest to help regain her balance. Catching him watching her, she gave him a small smile and craned her neck up to press a tender kiss to his mouth.

“I love you more than anything you know that, right?”

“I do,” Fitz murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers. “And I love y’, too.”

“Any you know that means you have nothing to worry about, no matter what.”

Fitz looked into her eyes for a long moment, and Jemma worried that maybe she’d overstepped by saying that. The feeling dissipated when he smiled back at her and leaned in for another kiss.

“I know. But jealousy reminds me t’ stay on my toes and make sure you’re happy, no matter what.”

Jemma linked her arm through Fitz’ elbow and walked with him toward the door.

“You do a good job of that,” she told him, “but I won’t complain if you want to demonstrate it as often as you like.” She nodded back to the table they’d occupied, a shiver running down her spine. “Although I have to say, green is a good color on you. You wear it well.”

Catching her meaning, Fitz grinned and pressed a kiss to her crown as they left the hall and headed back into the gala.

“I’ll be sure t’ keep that in mind, pet. I’ll keep that in mind.”


End file.
